


Like What You See?

by Rhysanoodle



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Crack Relationships, F/F, F/M, Headcanon, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:28:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28084692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhysanoodle/pseuds/Rhysanoodle
Summary: Lucien Vanserra has been moping for months since the loss of his lover before Feyre drags him out to the strip club. Things don't go as expected for him.A fun little crack fic I wrote based off a Tumblr post. For more details, check out this post on my Tumblr (@rhysanoodle).
Relationships: Azriel/Lucien Vanserra, Feyre Archeron/Rhysand
Comments: 3
Kudos: 40





	Like What You See?

“Come on, Luc!” Feyre shouted above the din, dragging him across the dimly-lit floor towards the table where Morrigan was waving to them.

He was beginning to regret making a bet with Feyre, because her terms—that he finally came out and had fun with her for once—were already backfiring on him. He hadn’t realized that their idea of fun would be frequenting Wingspans, the strip club where her boyfriend worked.

“Isn’t it strange watching your _cousin_ dance?” he shot at Mor, as the blonde slid a fruity drink in his direction. He took a large gulp, already succumbed to the fact that the hangover from all the sugar would be worth it if he could perhaps forget some of tonight.

“Oh, I just don’t watch him.” She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “The _others_ though. I can’t help it if I enjoy the show.” A coy waggling of her eyebrows had Lucien blushing and turning towards the stage.

“Come on, Lucien,” Feyre prodded him. “I know you enjoy it.” If Lucien could have turned a deeper shade of cherry, he would. He _did_ appreciate the show in front of him. He just hadn’t imagined being able to enjoy himself in this way since Andras had passed away. Even, half a year later, he wanted to stay home and sulk and … Maybe this wasn’t the worst idea Feyre had ever had. He took another sip of his drink deciding that he could at least make the most of this night. Ogling other guys didn’t have to be a betrayal.

“Ohhh! Here they come!” Feyre squealed, as the lights dimmed, three bold spotlights hitting the stage. The crowd cheered as three buff men walked out in elaborate scaled “armor” and intricately taloned wings strapped to their backs. They looked like positively devilish commanders, and Lucien couldn’t fight his grin as he drank them in. Prick though he might be, he had to admit that Rhys was made for this job. And the two unfamiliar men with him had him whipping off his suit jacket.

Tall, toned, hazel-eyed bombshells. There was a joviality to the longer-haired one, but the other … the one with the hardened gaze caught his eye, if only because he couldn’t fathom what was going through his head. His performing style was nothing like Lucien had ever seen before.

“One on the left’s Cassian,” Mor leaned in so he was able to hear her. “The other’s Azriel.”

“Wow,” was all Lucien could say as he gaped at them, watching as the three danced around the stage, bits of leather being discarded, as if they were delicious presents Lucien was unwrapping with his eyes.

Once he was in nothing more than a g-string and the wings, Rhys jumped down from the stage, working the crowd, and when he got to their table, he flashed a wink at his friends before dropping into Lucien’s lap.

God, it was absolutely impossible to hide his raging boner as the buff, naked warrior ground into him. Feyre thrust something into his hands, and Lucien found himself stuffing singles into the scrap of fabric around the man’s waist.

After a minute of receiving his own personal show, Rhys blew him a kiss and made his way back to the stage.

Lucien drowned in the giddy pleasure which had since overcome him, as he kept sipping his drink, which had since been refilled, unable to tell if the persistent flushing was a side effect of his tipsiness or his vivid recollection of the lap dance. He might have been plotting to steal his friend’s boyfriend.

When the set finally ended, the crowd cheered enthusiastically before welcoming the next act, but Feyre rose and gestured to Lucien to follow her. She led him to a small, cozy VIP section backstage, merely nodding at the bouncer familiarly as she pranced up to Rhys, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Rhys placed a peck on her forehead, wrapping his arms around her waist before turning to Lucien. “Well, what’d you think of the show?” He waggled a coy eyebrow at Lucien.

“It was all right.” Lucien delved his hands into his pockets, trying to give off as much swagger as he could. He’d found it was his best defense against Rhys’s quips. He had to match that bravado on the surface in order to compete at the same level, even if he was still internally full of turmoil. “I think you look better without the wings on.”

“Lies,” Cassian chuckled, coming up behind Lucien, clapping him on the back. “You couldn’t hide your enjoyment from us.” He fanned out to Lucien’s side, bringing Azriel, the mysterious one, with him.

Lucien fought to keep his gaze locked with the naked man’s own, instead of wandering lustfully. “Don’t tell me you weren’t just as excited,” he quipped back.

“I’m a professional.” Cassian faked indignance. “I know how to maintain some semblance of self control.”

Azriel, enshrouded in the shadows at the edge of the room, huffed a laugh, flashing Lucien a pitying smile. Lucien’s stomach flip-flopped as he saw the man’s demeanor lighten for a fraction of a second before he went back to casually observing the conversation.

Azriel, however, paid him more attention now, and Lucien could only hope that his face hadn’t betrayed how extremely attracted he was to man, regardless of the fact that his companions were the ones showering him with attention.

He shifted uncomfortably, looking around the small lounge for anything to take his mind off the handsome man, anything to cool down the rampant fire within him, and found just the thing—his father holed up in a corner booth, a man and woman hanging off each arm, listening raptly and laughing as he talked.

Well, that certainly poured some ice water on him, and Lucien quickly made for the exit before he heard a jovial, “Lucien!” ring through the room. Shit. He hadn’t managed to evade his father’s notice after all it seemed.

He turned on his heels, approaching the table. “What are you doing here?” It was bad enough his father knew he had come out to the club tonight, but it was so much worse actually running into him, and in a restricted area as well.

“I’m a very valued customer,” Helion drawled, pulling out his wallet and drawing out a shiny, black, metallic card which read “Illyrian Thirst Club—Thirsting over wingspans since 2017.” As he handed it to Lucien, he got a glimpse of his father’s name engraved on the back and swallowed dryly. Of course his father frequented this place, but what was even more disturbing were the business cards which had floated onto the low table in front of him as he flaunted his membership card.

They were glossy black numbers, and his heart sank as he saw Rhys and Cassian’s names jumping out at him. Nothing was sacred anymore. Lucien couldn’t enjoy just one night out appreciating some sexy men without learning that his father was familiar enough with them to have their business cards. He didn’t even want to think about what else that might entail.

He wanted to disappear, to sink into the shadows and just escape from this cursed life he lived. Luckily, the “Illyrians” had come over to interrupt. “You’re damn right he is.” Cassian clearly had his performance face on, but he was convincing at schmoozing his father.

A minute later, once Lucien had faded from the conversation, he felt a gentle tug on his wrist, a rough, cold hand applying a slight amount of pressure. He glanced up to its owner, finding Azriel inclining his head towards a door which Lucien hadn’t noticed in the low light.

He wordlessly followed, only breathing a sigh of relief when Azriel had shut the door to what was clearly a dressing room behind them.

“Sorry about them,” Azriel muttered, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m assuming you aren’t very fond of Helion.”

“You could say that,” Lucien deflected. Describing their relationship … Well, he wasn’t sure he was in the mood for it right now. Going into how he’d learned in his teens that the man he’d thought his father was anything but. Being introduced to Helion after his mom broke it off with Beron. Their tense conversations as a man who clearly wasn’t made for settling down or parenting tried to relate to him.

“Well, they won’t think to look for you here.”

“And nobody’s going to come for you either?”

Azriel shook his head. “I’m done performing for the night, and I’ve found that it’s not so hard to slip away unnoticed. Rhys has Feyre, and Cassian will probably be hitting the drinks with Mor.” Azriel began unstrapping his wings, leaving him in nothing but his underwear.

Lucien pretended that he wasn’t struggling to breathe as he watched the other man’s muscles flex.

Azriel’s resulting smile though, told him it was all for naught, and at Lucien averted his gaze he heard a soft, “It’s perfectly fine if you appreciate what you see. The same goes for me.”

And that was how Lucien found himself with broad hands on his hips, breathing in the mist and cedar which made him lightheaded. He didn’t fight it as Azriel leaned in, pressing cautious lips to his own. He kissed him back, ignoring all pretenses, relishing as Azriel took his invitation to deepen the kiss, callouses fingers threading through Lucien’s loose locks.

Much as Lucien tried to hate himself, this was the best, most hopeful he’d felt in a long time, and he let go of all his restraints, allowing a gasping moan to escape his lips as Azriel took his bottom lip between his teeth, tugging deliciously.

It was enough of an unleashing that he felt his belt being loosened, the buttons of his trousers undone, before a rough hand slipped in beneath his boxers. Lucien didn’t even mind the jolt of cold as his balls got the much-deserved attention he hadn’t received from anyone but his own hand in months.

A thrill went through him as even more blood rushed to dick, hardening it further, as Azriel took that as a sign to begin stroking him, ever so tantalizingly. Lucien pulled his pants down past his length, giving the other man full access to do whatever he wished with him.

He had to admit that Azriel knew exactly what he was doing, fully stroking his length, teasing the tip with his thumb until Lucien was putty in his hands, and it wasn’t long before Lucien found his completion, spilling over in a beautiful finale, leaving him practically shaking beneath the grip which still caressed him gently, keeping the edge on.

When the other man showed no sign of letting up, Lucien fumbled, reaching for his g-string, hooking his thumbs in the scant fabric and sliding them down his thighs. He took matters into his own hands, sinking to his knees and placing Azriel’s firm cock between his lips.

Azriel held on longer than Lucien would have expected, yet after a few minutes of dancing around his cock with lips and tongue and teeth, Lucien felt him stiffen before he tasted the salt on his tongue, confidently swirling his tongue around the tip until his lover pulled out, sinking back onto the couch behind them.

Lucien rose and joined him, resting his head in the crook of Azriel’s shoulder. He wasn’t sure exactly what had passed between the two of them—something purely physical which had felt like more—but perhaps that was just his loneliness speaking.

After a minute of allowing himself to rest there in peace, he stood, pulling his dress pants back on and straightening his shirt. “God. I don’t really know what came over me.” He fumbled his words, knowing that he was babbling but unsure where to go from here. The best solution seemed to be making a swift exit and catching a ride home, but he couldn’t stop himself from unloading.

“God, just seeing my father here and seeing those cards. I can’t believe he’s received private shows from your friends. I just … I …”

Azriel looked up at him sheepishly. “I think he’s hired out the services of everyone in this club.”

Lucien’s heart sank at the realization that he’d just … That he’d done …

“Relax.” Azriel came up and snaked an arm around his shoulder in a comforting attempt. “This is just a job. We strip down to our unmentionables for the money, but nothing ever _happens_. What just occurred between us, it’s not something I’ve ever done while on the clock. Maybe it was just me being so attracted to you and knowing you’re a friend of Feyre’s so you had to have some decent qualities—”

It was Azriel’s complete reciprocation of Lucien’s nervousness which had a laugh bubbling to the surface, until Lucien couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Thank god. So we …?”

“I’d very much like your number, and maybe next time I see you, people won’t be shoving bills into my undergarments.”

“I’d like that too,” Lucien murmured, planting a chaste kiss on Azriel’s lips and failing to suppress a grin.


End file.
